


Say Something

by dracoqueen22



Category: Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons), Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: M/M, Universe AU, Universe Amalgam, Wally West is Alive, batflash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 01:14:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 640
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8124871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracoqueen22/pseuds/dracoqueen22
Summary: Bruce gets older, grayer, and slower, while Wally remains as bright as ever.





	

Wally is a flirt. Always has been. This is nothing new, is so normal as to be unnoticeable.   
  
Bruce stops paying attention after the first freely given compliment. He knows his worth in Wally’s life. He has no reason to be uncertain.   
  
Reality, however, is not so black and white.   
  
Bruce gets older. Grayer. Slower.   
  
Wally remains as bright as ever. Vivacious. Irresistible. A glowing star hanging in the night. Impossible to restrain, not that Bruce would ever try.   
  
He realizes his time is growing short. He already knows that the years creep closer to when he’ll have to hang his cape. He suspects he’s in danger of losing Wally before that.   
  
He tries harder, but he hesitates – torn between his duty and his heart. For they are not the same.   
  
Bruce takes Wally into his arms, kisses him fiercely. He loses himself in quiet gasps, soft moans, warm skin, and a bedmate who takes up most of his massive bed and snores like a go-cart.   
  
Bruce wakes alone later and tells himself an excuse that is partially a lie. Because Wally is a hero, too. Even if he usually never leaves without waking Bruce first.   
  
It’s long past dawn. Too early even for Bruce Wayne actually.   
  
He rises anyway. He puts on a robe, pads silently over chilly tile, and stands on the balcony.   
  
It’s a crisp and cold morning. The sky smells of rain. Alfred is down below, cutting blooms for the brunch table. He, too, is getting slow and grey.   
  
All good things must come to an end.   
  
Bruce goes back inside, resolve strengthening the walls of his heart. He has nothing to do but wait.   
  
Bruce never gives up without a fight. But there are some battles that can’t be won. Time is the cruelest villain.   
  
One month later, Wally comes to him, wrapped in his costume but his cowl pushed back. His hair is a ruffled mess. His smile cracks around the edges. Lightning crackles from his fingertips, before it wisps away.   
  
“Bruce,” he says, direct. “We need to talk.”   
  
He’s grown so much. There’s no hint of a blush, no ounce of hesitation. There is nothing save determination in his eyes.   
  
Batman breathes deeply. His fingers pause on the keys. He knows he should remove his cowl, but he needs the protection now more than ever.   
  
“I know,” he replies with all the control he has mastered over the years. “But you owe me nothing. Not explanation or apology.”   
  
Wally stares at him. There’s hurt in his eyes.   
  
“No,” he says, tight, a leashed anger. “I guess not.”   
  
There is a lump in Batman’s throat. He speaks past it. “Goodbye, Wally.” He begins typing again, and is proud that the words are not gibberish.   
  
A shiver ripples over Wally, charged, like a thunderstorm. He opens his mouth as if to speak before he shakes his head. His hands close into creaking leather fists. He’s gone in a blink, a rush of air, taking it all with him.   
  
Batman pushes back his cowl, and Bruce bows his head. He braces his weight on the edge of the console. He closes the heat of his eyes.   
  
“Master Bruce.”   
  
He is not surprised Alfred is here in the aftermath. He would’ve been the first to know.   
  
“He wanted you to fight for him.”   
  
Bruce swallows over the lump. “I know,” he says, and opens his eyes. He straightens.   
  
“Then perhaps it is for the best.”   
  
Alfred’s words are not a comfort. They are not meant to be.   
  
“It is an unfortunate circumstance,” Alfred continues with a soft sigh. He turns and leaves. “I quite liked Master West.”   
  
Bruce’s fingers return to the keys. What he types is gibberish, but he doesn’t stop.   
  
“So did I.”   
  
The reply is lost to the shadows. Like so many other things.


End file.
